


Marvel Cinematic Fortress

by CherriesAndChew



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Giant Robots, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherriesAndChew/pseuds/CherriesAndChew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gravel Wars are past, and the Mann vs. Machine Wars are still in full swing.  The nine mercs bring with them surprising powers and abilities, but after a mishap on the battlefield, Scout discovers that Medic has even more to his background and power than was ever suspected. At the same time, a mysterious masked man has been sighted near their home base, the Administrator is gone, and an enemy long thought destroyed in World War II resurfaces, forcing the nine mercs into a battle not just for themselves, but for the sake of the entire world.</p><p>(I am attempting to make TF2 fit well enough to possibly be an actual unseen part of the MCU.  Your mileage may vary :D)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“HERE I COME!”

The shout echoed in the way it always did through the nooks and crannies of the battlefield, bellowing even over the roar and whine of the firing minigun hitting metal, explosions and odd beeps, the hiss of flame and the crack of metal striking metal.

The nine mercenaries of Teufort were deep in battle with the latest wave of Gray robots, working to defend their turf from the infiltrators. Today it was Mannworks, a series of buildings built in a clearing inside a forest north of their usual home, the spectre of the giant robot transport just visible over the horizon. The battle was actually going very well for them, considering Engineer and Demo had already taken out the tank, with Heavy shoving it back enough to no longer be a problem. Scout, Spy, Pyro and Sniper were wiping out the hordes of robots still fighting them, with Medic running back and forth to heal the group, and Soldier was doing his rocket hopping and calling out, in his own unique way, how many more bots were coming.

“Two more lines incoming!” he shouted, reloading and firing again from mid-air, taking out a pack of his robotic copies before he landed. 

“Yo, hardhat, plant a sentry here or there, would’ja?” Scout all but bounced from robot to robot, kicking and batting away the machines in a speedy blur of motion.

“Ah’m gettin’ to it, boy, hold yer horses!” The Engineer already had one of his robot guns up and was throwing together another one at full speed.

There was a loud explosion, sending shards of robots flashing over the grassy field, accompanied by a loud, Scottish shout. “MEEEDIIIIC!”

“I am on zhe vay!” Medic pulled away from behind Pyro to rush over to the wounded Demoman, aiming the Medigun to send the familiar healing wave towards him.

There was a mechanical WHOOSH, and Spy appeared from thin air behind a bot, booting it forward and directly into the line of fire of Sascha, grinning as he disappeared once more. His knife wasn’t a lot of use against the machines unless he could get into exactly the right spot, but the man was also exceptionally good at distraction. And a robot looking at him was a robot not looking at Sniper or Soldier as they pumped bullets through the steel chassis. “It would seem zey are very slow to learn, as always,” he commented, lighting a fresh cigarette before disappearing once more.

“HNG NUDDA HUD!” came from the Pyro, swinging the barrel of the flamethrower around to physically knock away a robot, then spraying the line down with flame, sending many of them shrieking and rattling around in circles.

“Good work there, boyo!” Sniper picked off a couple of the non-flaming robots distracted by their brethren, snickering under his breath at the downright absurdity of robots panicking. He looked down to reload, unaware of the encroaching Spybot sneaking behind him, knife drawn back.

“I zink not,” came a familiar voice, and Sniper startled and turned just in time to see Spy’s pistol right at the head of the bot, decapitating it cleanly. “Watch your back, bushman.”

Sniper smirked a bit as he finished with his gun. “Thanks, mate. Besides, why botha’? I know you like to focus on my back.”

Spy shot him a vaguely annoyed and yet still amused expression before vanishing again, while Sniper returned to his shooting. The battle continued in such a manner, the nine mercenaries destroying, assisting, healing, and helping each other, driving back the invading force with the practiced ease that had come from hundreds of campaigns together, learning each other’s strengths and weaknesses, as well as that of their enemies. Within the hour, the field was littered with shattered metal and sparking circuits, along with the sometimes singed bills of money that, for whatever insane reason, fueled the bots.

“Whoo-hoo!” Scout bounced from foot to foot, ecstatic. “Once again, we dominate!”

“At ease, son, first we search out any possible robot trickery. Demo, blow them up a few more times to make sure they are not planning a surprise robot assault from their remnants!” Soldier ordered.

“Ach. Soldier, zhey are dead,” Medic said, holding up a hand to stop Demoman before he could start launching explosives. “Save zhe ammo.”

“That’s just what a robot would want me to believe!” Soldier spun around, practically pressing his nose to that of the unimpressed doctor. “Arrrrrre you a robot, Medic?”

“Ja,” Medic replied flatly. “But you already programmed my loyalty. I am simply saving your resources as you set me to do.”

Soldier might have narrowed his eyes, it was hard to tell with the helmet over them, and he remained still and silent in his glare. Finally he stood back, saluting and smacking himself in the helmet with his shovel. “Gooood work, Medic-bot! I’m proud you function so well! Not to mention are in much better shape than any of your brethren!”

“It does zhe heart good.” Medic moved on, allowing Soldier to resume bellowing orders at no one in particular, moving among the others to check them for injuries. “Iz everyone all right?”

“No complaints,” Spy said, even as he was brushing away dirt from his suit. “Ozer zan a need for dry-cleaning.”

“All in one piece over here, doc,” Engineer said, as he and Pyro were packing up the sentries.

“Hudda hud!” Pyro held up a thumb to show things were well.

Medic nodded, glancing around, seeing Demo was already chugging down a bottle of whatever it was that he was constantly chugging down, and mentally checked him off on the “uninjured” list. Sniper was reloading and checking his weapons, and Heavy had set down Sascha to wipe the sweat from his brow, silently looking over the battlefield. That left Scout, and it took a moment of glancing around to locate the young man, at the far end of the zone, poking at a more intact robot with his bat, checking it for life.

Satisfied that his team was through this in one piece, Medic allowed himself a sly grin as he moved to start gathering up some of the scattered bills. Gray Mann was clearly a lunatic to power his machines on money of all things, but far be it from him to not take advantage of getting to help unleash hell and then get money for more supplies from it.

“Another job done good,” Heavy spoke, approaching the doctor, picking up his own share of the money. “We celebrate tonight. Dinner on me.”

“It’s your turn to cook anyway, maggot,” Soldier said.

“Heavy is aware, Soldier man. But will treat team tonight. I go to steakhouse, bring back all I can carry, and we eat our fill, make happy times.”

“Now that sounds like a plan to me, big guy,” Engineer said with a grin as he finished packing up, hefting his giant toolbox onto one soldier. Pyro made enthusiastic sounds of agreement, and Demo's belch was followed by a cheerful guffaw.

“Let us return home first,” Spy said, going over to Sniper, seeming to look the man over once. “The bushman has nearly sweated off his clothing.”

Medic glanced over at that. They had all worked up a sweat, as could be expected from spending an hour in the middle of hard combat. For Sniper, however, this was a bit of an issue...the red shirt he was wearing had frayed and revealed a gray, scratchy-looking interior, his glove was essentially gone save for the wristband of it, and his pants had patches where they were threadbare and slightly steaming. Only his hat seemed to be unscathed, though Medic knew that was simply because the inside of it was lined with a fiberglass insulation that protected it...he'd helped sew it in himself.

“It ain't that bad this time,” Sniper said with an idle shrug. “The insulation Doc and Engie made is holdin' up okay.”

“Now see there, pardner,” the Engineer said with a grin, pointing his wrench at Sniper and shaking it a bit. “I told you, glass works on your Jarate, so it should work on the rest of your questionable bodily functions. Though wearing that is gonna get mighty uncomfortable if you don't get home and change outta it.”

“We all go home now,” Heavy said. “Was good battle. Now is over.” He picked up Sascha, motioning with one arm for the rest to follow with him back to their transports home. Most of the other mercenaries gathered themselves up to start the trek back, but when Medic turned to look, Scout was still at the far end of the field, poking his bat at the robots.

“Scout, _schnell_!” he called with vague annoyance. “Ve are going home!”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute!” the youngster called back dismissively.

“Leave the lad be, doc,” Demo said, clapping a hand to his shoulder and offering him a swig from his brown bottle, which Medic waved off. “You n' me both know he'll end up beating th'lot of us back anyway.”

“Ach.” Medic rolled his eyes a bit, but knew the Scotsman had a point, despite the fact that he was already at least three quarters of the way to completely sloshed. The abilities that had convinced the Administrator to bring in the young man as part of the group allowed him frenetic speed and nimbleness, so even if they got to their transports and drove halfway back to the barracks without him, he could easily catch and even surpass the rest of them if he so chose. And seeing as, unlike the others who maintained a quiet acceptance of their differences and used them only when necessary, the youth reveled in his powers, that was probably exactly what was going to happen.

Likely no one outside the nine of them and their mysterious employers knew the full truth about their team. Mercenaries paid to wage an endless war for several years, before now being sent into battle against waves of advanced robot clones of themselves and scavenging money from them, sure. That was obvious enough. But there was a secondary reason that had become clear within a few weeks of being together...every single one of them had some sort of strange or unusual ability that set them apart from humanity at large.

Why this was the case, none of them had been able to guess. There'd been plenty of theories, most of which fell apart under their own weight. But considering the variety and specializations that came with their powers and their use of them, it couldn't have been a coincidence.

Scout's power was a bit hard to understand, but Medic had eventually figured it out. Most wrote off the boy as a speedster, given the obviousness, but there was more to it than that. It wasn't uncommon to see him make a leap that he had no rights making due to what he called his “double jump”, where he would bounce off seemingly thin air as though it were his own personal platform...or, when properly hyperactive, able to dodge nearly anything that came at him, even bullets. It had taken the doctor some time to puzzle out that Scout's speed was only a side effect of his true power: an ability to control and affect the force of friction. He was still in exceptional shape, and truly quite fast, but by negating the very forces around him to null wind resistance, or boosting them to the point that it literally gave him a point from which to leap or a sort of shielding against projectiles, it gave him an agile nature that simply couldn't be matched. Medic had a feeling that Scout had yet to even begin to tap into the full utility of his power, but until he began to show a little more maturity, Medic wasn't inclined to try and help him figure it out.

Heavy didn't seem to have an explicit power, exactly, but the man's immense strength and endurance were clearly not human. Medic had helped Heavy test the upper limits of what he could do and withstand several times, and the results had been breath-taking. Picking up and carrying entire vehicles was by no means difficult for the giant, and withstanding several shots from missiles at close range before finally requiring the Respawn system showed that Heavy was certainly no ordinary mortal. Of course, the two of them had known that for years, but that was neither here nor there.

The Engineer's abilities had been announced right up front the day he and Pyro had arrived. The man was a technological genius, unparalleled, in no small part due to an ability to literally communicate with his machines. All machines, to that effect. He sat down with the creaking computers that helped monitor and maintain the fort and had them running to max capacity within a few moments of tapping and gentle, good-natured patter. He had an attachment to machines, treated them more like pets than tools, to the point of becoming visibly and audibly infuriated when his sentries were maligned in battle. He had taken a shot several times at trying to tame the Gray-bots, but it was nearly impossible for him to catch one without being immediately gunned down by a dozen others, or without it being torn to shreds immediately by hyper-defensive teammates. He'd made a few half-hearted attempts to rebuild them from shattered remnants, but the rest of the team had firmly put their foot down on that when they'd found him working with pieces of a Sentry Buster. No one wanted to risk one of those things exploding in what was essentially their house.

The mysterious Pyro, though, was for once very straight-forward. The being made fire, and lots of it. Pyro preferred the projectile force that came with the flamethrower Engineer had provided, but without it, was fully capable of swirling up great handfuls of orange and blue and lighting anything that came to hand. That was literally all Medic had been able to figure out, though, as Pyro wasn't inclined to be communicative with anyone but Engineer, and he wasn't inclined to say much about the situation either. So long as both of them did their jobs, Medic was content to let it be.

Soldier...well. Soldier was different. Medic didn't care to think on it too much. He knew more about Soldier than he wanted to. The man was strong, resilient, and immune to things he had no right being immune to (like rabies, Medic had come to realize after the eighth or ninth time he had to treat a raccoon mauling). It wasn't as pronounced as Heavy, but Soldier was well above what could be expected of a regular person. Of course, he was also completely and utterly insane, for reasons that just...didn't bear thought.

Demoman was also different, as he usually was. As far as Medic could tell, Demo didn't have a power himself, not even the bizarre strength that Heavy or even the Soldier had. He was a very competent fighter, absolutely lethal with the best of them, and more than held his own alongside his superpowered compatriots. His presence had originally bothered Medic immensely, since the fact that they all had unusual abilities except Demo made no real sense. But after a few unfortunate run-ins with the supernatural, it had become clear that while the Scotsman might be lacking a power, he certainly couldn't be called normal. Mystical and magical beings and items seemed to be drawn to the man through no real effort of his own. He wielded the spells of Merasmus as naturally as the insane magician himself, defeated his own possessed eyeball, had dealt the killing blow to the Horseless Headless Horseman, and was the only one of them who could control a possessed, chatty sword without the damned thing trying to kill him in his sleep. No, maybe that wasn't a power in and of itself, but something in Demoman gave him an affinity for magic that couldn't be denied, and it had bailed their butts out of the fire more than once.

Spy had tried to be tricky about what he could do, disguising it with devices and such, but one dropped watch in the midst of battle had been all it had taken to reveal the man's shapeshifting nature. There did seem to be a psychosomatic nature to the disguise kit and watches, though, as he definitely focused better when he was holding or wearing them, but Spy could change his appearance and even erase it on his own just fine. Medic was not terribly keen on this, and ostensibly because the two of them were considered “roommates” by dint of being the last two unassigned on their first day in the barracks, he had worked out several ways to keep an awareness of Spy's presence. However, after a great many months, he'd come to tolerate it, especially since at some point Spy had stopped sleeping in his section of the lab and started spending more time sharing space with the Sniper.

Thinking of Sniper always brought a grim feeling to Medic's mind, as the Australian's power, if it could even be called that with a straight face, seemed like evidence of a malicious and malevolent deity. Simply put, the man was a walking, talking wasteland. Every fluid in his body was toxic, poisonous, even acidic. The Jarate, disgusting as it was, was actually the safest thing he produced, apparently sterilized of most of it's poisons, and an effective means of stunning and debilitating enemies without posing serious risk to his teammates or the surrounding landscape. But everything else...blood, saliva, sweat, tears...brought with it serious hazards to anything and everything around him. Generally, he was all right, not much of a threat, though touching his skin with bare fingers might result in a tingling sensation from time to time. But cuts and scrapes became intense biohazards, and in situations like now, where he was in good shape but had been through exertion, merely standing too close might begin to sting the flesh.

Somehow or another, though, the Spy's shapeshifting abilities had some sort of negative effect on this. He wasn't immune by any means, one or two nasty accidents during fights had left the Frenchmen in need of a long blast from the Medigun. But right now, walking back to base, the two men were side by side, Spy casually handing over a cigarette, with no signs of issue despite his dirtied suit showing the tiniest wisps of deterioration. The others kept a respectful berth, but the two men that had been dread enemies upon first meeting apparently had formed a amicable companionship. More amicable than most of the team suspected, Medic knew, but he kept that to himself. So long as it meant Spy stayed out of the lab and gave him more space, he didn't care what they were doing in that camper.

As for he himself, well...most of the team figured his Medigun and healing skills were what he brought to the table. The fact that he once in a while might come up with an experiment that ended in impromptu exploratory surgery had just become a fact of life for them, and with the Respawn system that had been put in place by the combined efforts of himself, Engie, and the Administrator, whoever she was, dying from having your internal organs sneak-removed was more of a nuisance than anything.

He was content to let them think of him as a fast-healing mad scientist and nothing more. The less probing they did, the better.

Medic paused in his motion to check his bonesaw, making a face at the sight of oil caked on it from a few bots that had gotten too close for comfort, trying to wipe it clean as best he could. Heavy stopped next to him, offering a stained but relatively clean bit of cloth that usually wiped down Sascha. “Danke,” Medic said, cleaning off the weapon, walking next to his giant associate.

“Would you like coming to town with me, Doktor?” Heavy asked, glancing to the mid-afternoon sun. “I use help carrying back dinner.”

“I zhink I might enjoy zhat. I have not taken a break from vork in several days.” Medic tucked the blade into it's spot on his belt, handing Heavy back his rag. “Vhere vill the-?”

There was a sudden loud CRACK, and in front of them, Engineer let out a shout of surprise when he was suddenly struck in the arm with a stray bullet, and at the same time, behind them, the Scout was crying out. “Damn thing's still alive!”

Medic didn't hesitate to grab his Medigun and apply a healing wave to fix up his teammate, but looked back to see Scout wielding his bat against the still-intact Scout-bot, which was fending him off while sprinting towards the giant transport vehicle barely visible over the horizon.

“Scout!” Heavy bellowed in some alarm, as the young man was giving chase.

“Don't worry, big man, I got this! He ain't getting' away from me!” Scout pulled open his bag to retrieve his pistol, firing at the robot as both pelted over the hill.

“Fool, you are leaving ze Respawn area!” Spy yelled after him, but either Scout was already out of hearing range or too focused on his target to pay any attention.

Medic muttered a stream of curses in German, sparing one glance to make sure Engineer was okay before turning to sprint after them. “I vill get him! The rest of you get home, ve vill be right behind you!” Almost as fast as the Scout and his robotic double, Medic vanished over the hillside as well, still audibly swearing as he went.

“Damnit...should we go after them?” Engineer asked, rubbing the spot on his arm that had just been wounded.

“Nyet. Scout and Doktor are fastest on team. Even if we try, we cannot catch them.” Heavy couldn't hide the furrowed brow or worry in his voice, but he turned with one last look. “We do as Medic says...leave them transport, go home. I am sure they are okay.” 

“And if they are not, we will launch a search party,” Soldier said. “To discover where their bones are scattered after the robots have eaten the rest of them. Robots always leave behind the bones of their prey as a warning to others.”

  
If the other six had anything to say in response to that, they at least had the sense to keep it to themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

Scout hadn’t often gotten to spend a lot of time testing his speed through forests.  When he was younger, he was in the middle of Boston where there weren’t any trees, and then most of the work he’d done with the other mercs was in the desert.  Mannworks was somewhere he hadn’t been before, but Soldier, somehow or another, had known the robots would show up here, and as usual, the crazy bastard was right.  He had no real idea how Soldier could make predictions like that, but it was proven he could, which was good enough for him.

This wasn’t a fight, though.  The robotic copy of him was trying to escape, which wasn’t something the Gray-bots had ever done before.  He supposed this one just hadn’t expected the sheer ferocity of the beating it’s group had been in for, and hey, if robots could panic when they got set on fire, then surely they could panic when they were getting their metal brains bashed out of their heads.

Scout weaved through a patch of trees, bouncing over spots of thick and decidedly rough-looking undergrowth that the robot had tried to tear through and just gotten tangled and slowed down in, and aimed his pistol, getting off a shot that shredded the thing’s left arm, causing it to let out a screech of pain even as it broke loose and kept running.

“If you were smart, you’d just lay down!” he yelled at it, landing on the other side of the thick brush and continuing his sprint without missing a beat.  No way was he going to let this stupid rip-off of him get away to come back and try again later.  He hated the very existence of these things, the way they tried to act and sound like him.  He wasn’t sure how the others felt about the fact that they had been copied by Gray Mann to create the robots trying to take over their employers, but he was insulted.  The very idea that someone thought they could just map him out and rebuild something as awesome as he was with just a few nuts and bolts offended him on a very personal level.  It had taken years of blood, sweat, and (extremely rare, thank you) tears for him to get to where he was and for some old shrunken head to pop in and try to create hundreds more just like him?  What sick freak did that?

He whipped around another tree and had another shot, and this one got right where he wanted it, ripping into the robot’s left leg and taking it off below the knee, causing it to trip and skid through the dirt with momentum.  He dug in his heels to come to a fast stop, gritting his teeth as he used the natural power he was born with to pretty much halt immediately.  He didn’t enjoy that, because quick stops made it feel like his stomach was trying to jump out through his throat, but he didn’t know how close they’d gotten to the robot transport and he wasn’t going to go any further than absolutely necessary.

“Lotta good that did ya, huh?” he asked the robot, which was using it’s remaining arm and leg to try and crawl away.  “What the hell were you thinkin’?”  He swapped for his shotgun, aiming and pumping a couple shots into the robot’s body, grimacing as it made a couple more pained screams.  “Oh for the love of...would you just die already??”  The gun was swapped out for his trusty aluminum bat, and a few quick, hard swings finally got the dimmed lights that he was trying to get all along.

“Freakin’.  Finally.”  Scout reached up to wipe his forehead with his arm, letting out a breath.  While he could run for hours without a lot of trouble, there was a difference between plain old exercise and the exertion that came along with battle, and he felt sweaty and dirty, especially after charging along through the humid air and thick forest after this stupid thing.  He looked forward to getting back and having a warm shower and then spending the rest of his day nose-deep in his comics.  Fighting was fun and all, especially with the money and oh, he almost forgot about that.  Scout set his bag down and unzipped it, then started prying and pulling at various parts of the robot to figure out where inside the cash that powered it was hiding.

“Scout!  Vhere are you?”

Scout turned his head, sort of wrinkling his nose.  Great, so Medic had decided to chase him down.  He had to hand it to the old man, being able to almost keep up with him while carrying that huge pack of whatever-it-was everywhere, but that didn’t make it any less annoying that the goat found it necessary a lot of times to use that speed in order to nag at him about how he was handling himself on the battlefield.  Scout knew damn well that being careful and watching his back and whatever else would minimize his need for running back from Respawn or having to duck back to find the healing beam, but that wasn’t what he was there for.  He had been picked for his speed, first and foremost, which meant it was his job to be out there on the front line, whatever that would entail.  And in this case, it was his job to stop this robot piece of crap from getting away from them.  They weren’t done till all these bastards were dead.

It only took the doctor a couple seconds to actually track him down, and Medic hurried over to him, looking about as worried as he ever managed to.  “Zhere you are, zhank Gott.  Are you all right?”

“Yeah, doc, you know I am,” Scout answered, finally locating the wad of cash and stuffing it into his bag, zipping it up and standing, spinning his bat once.  “I did what I was supposed to do.  Killed the robot.”

Medic’s concern dissolved away as he slowed from his run, just walking over to Scout with a look of severe annoyance coming to his face.  “And you ran out of Respawn zone in order to do it.  You could have been killed, permanently, and zhere vould have been nothing ve could have done to save you!"

“Oh my God, are you serious right now?”  Scout pointed his bat at the shattered robot.  “You really think I’m gonna lose a fight to one’a those stupid things?  They might be a problem for you and your vitamin cannon but I wipe out bunches’a robots without even slowin’ down!”

“And how often do you get killed because of your carelessness?”

“You’re the one who built that freakin’ system so you should be thankin’ me for trustin’ your equipment enough to be that careless, you stupid old bag!”

“ _Ja_ , I am so glad that you put so much faith in it that you run avay and out of it’s reach!”

The two men were embroiled enough in their argument that the faint thuds of movement didn’t immediately reach their ears.  Neither were exactly expecting anything more, considering they’d laid waste to the usual series of robot waves, and never in their experience had another followed the last set with two tanks.  Whether or not this was Gray Mann’s own particularity or just the way the robots worked, they didn’t know, but by now, the predictable waves were just habit.

Medic was the first one to pause mid-shout, frowning and turning his head.  “Vhat in…?”

“What now?” Scout grumbled, before the sound came to him as well, and he frowned, using his pinky to sort of poke at his own ear, trying to figure out if there was something else causing the rhythmic sound.  “You hear that?”

“ _Ja_.  It sounds like-,” Medic’s eyes widened, and he looked in the direction of the thuds before grabbing for Scout’s arm.  “Ve have to go, now!”

“What?  It’s just anotha’ robot, I can kill that thing right now!”

“Do you not hear how large it sounds??  It iz one of zhe giants!  We cannot fight it alone!”

“Says you!” Scout answered, pulling his arm away.  “I bet I can tear that thing to pieces just fine!”

“It iz _fifteen feet tall_!”

“You know what they say ‘bout the bigga’ they are!”

“Do you know vhat zhey say about fools dying young??”

Scout was practically baring his teeth, getting closer to be nose-to-nose with the taller doctor.  Before he could continue snapping at the Medic, the steady thuds suddenly became less plodding and picked up tempo, with the sounds of branches snapping and cracking as the robot came towards them even faster.  The two men had just enough time to go from annoyed with one another to very concerned, when the behemoth made itself known, slamming through the trees next to them.

“Doc, look out!” Scout shouted, and Medic grunted when the young man shoved him hard out of the way, just avoiding a wild swing from of all things, an enormous metal bat.  Medic gasped as he went stumbling back and onto the ground from the force of the shove.  Part of him was distracted, somewhat impressed that Scout had that level of strength in him, but hearing a yelp of pain that indicated Scout hadn’t quite avoided the same blow had him scrambling to try and get back to his feet.

The giant Scout-bot, and of course it made sense for that one to be the straggler, able to come charging up at top speed unannounced and attack them out of nowhere, had gotten a solid strike on Scout, knocking him head over tail into a nearby tree, but Scout was pulling himself upright, already grabbing at his shotgun.  “I.   _Hate_.  Robots!” he spat, turning and opening fire on the machine.

Medic didn’t waste a second on aiming the Medigun nozzle at him, healing up whatever damage might have come from the initial strike.  “Scout, ve have to get out of here!” Medic called to him.  “Come on!”

“I ain’t lettin’ this giant piece of crap keep existin’!” Scout shot back, switching to his pistol and charging the robot, dodging quickly under another swing from the giant bat.  He ducked in close, starting to pump bullets into the leg joints of the bot, even while avoiding another rapid swing from the bat.  The damn things were nearly as fast as he was, but they were stiffer, more predictable, and at least in this case didn’t have anything healing whatever damage was done to them.  He could handle this, no problem.

“Scout, for zhe love of Gott!”  Medic stood his ground as Scout bobbed and weaved around the attacking robot.

“Go on, I got this, I got it!” Scout jumped up to actually land on the bat, then bounced off it, drawing his own to slam it into the giant bot’s face as hard as he could, grunting at the shock of pain in his hands from the hit.  “Agh, damnit, metal on metal is a bad idea…”

Even as he was falling back down to the ground, the robot reacted, swinging it’s hand at him, and he didn’t have time to double-jump or otherwise attempt to avoid it, getting backhanded hard enough to launch him back into a tree a short distance away, crying out as he went crashing through low branches and landing facefirst in a patch of brush and brambles.  Thankfully Medic’s healing beam had stayed with him most of the way, but that hadn’t stopped the pain of the collision with the ground...or the thorns in the bushes, ow.

“Scout!” he heard the doctor yelling from somewhere outside the vicinity of the pine tree he was currently laying under.

“M’all right, doc, stay clear’a that thing!” Scout saw the robot approaching, and gritted his teeth, moving to sit up to get back to his feet and back in the fight-and gasping when he felt himself jerk to a stop suddenly, as though something had hold of him.  He yanked again, looking down, eyes widening when he saw how badly his leg was tangled in the briars of the brush, thorns snarled in the fabric of his pants.  “Aw crap.”

There was a loud cracking sound, and Scout yelped when the tree over him was being shoved aside hard enough to start splintering the wood, the giant robot swinging it’s bat wildly at the area he was in, trying to get him.  He ducked down as much as he could, reaching down and prying hard at the sharp vines to try and work his way loose, other arm up to try and protect his head from the shower of bark and twigs from the robot’s enthusiastic efforts.

Abruptly there was a _snap_ as the tree finally gave way, and Scout gasped, looking up as the robot glared down at him, even as the pine fell with a tremendous noises against the other trees.  “Oh God, help, _help!_  Oh God oh God oh God!”  He lunged again, trying to wrench himself free, then just laid flat and covered his head, knowing damn well it wasn’t going to save him from his skull getting crushed in by that damn thing, but it was all he could think to do…

The expected blow didn’t come.  Instead, he heard a loud shout of effort and the robot’s gears clanking and rattling around as the machine let out a metallic shriek of surprise.  Scout didn’t know what he expected to see when he raised his head to look at the sound.

He certainly didn’t expect to see Medic _hoisting the robot over his head_.

A few fast blinks assured him he was not in fact imagining things.  The doctor’s Medigun hose was dangling loosely at his side, dragging the ground, and his face was contorted in a way Scout had never seen before...sheer physical effort.  Nostrils flaring, teeth bared, a roar of exertion, arms shaking slightly but the giant robot’s feet had come off the ground as Medic literally was pressing it over his head, and showed no signs of letting it back down despite it’s struggles to free itself.

And then, just as swiftly, Medic was turning, and with another shout, drove the thing headfirst into the dirt hard enough that Scout felt the ground quiver under him, and without missing a beat, as though he hadn’t just toppled a two-ton behemoth like it was a plank of wood, Medic launched himself in a tremendous leap, pouncing on top of the robot even as it was trying to get itself back up.  He landed on the thing’s torso, fist drawn back.

_CLANG._

The first punch didn’t seem to do much, but-

_CLANG._

The immediately following second left a sizeable dent, and-

_CRUNCH._

On the third rapid-fire hit, Medic’s fist tore straight through the thing’s chest, causing another robot scream, as Medic grabbed the split metal in either hand and pulled, ripping the chassis open even farther, and finally clawing furiously at the wiring inside, until one yanked fistful of sparking innards caused the Scout-bot to whir and click, lights in the eyes winking out, and crashing back to the ground, dead.  Medic stayed perched on top of it, one hand clutching at the insides, the other drawn back in a fist, ready, snarling, waiting for any sign of a trick, but it seemed this particular robot wouldn’t be causing any further trouble.

“Holy crap…” Scout murmured as he stared at the sight, stuck leg completely forgotten.  Medic glanced over, and the ferocious look immediately vanished from his face, schooling right back into the vaguely annoyed/concerned expression he usually had, grabbing the Medigun and heading over towards him.

“Scout, are you all right?”  His voice was trying hard to be disinterested, but Scout could hear an underlying note of something else. A faint quiver, almost like fear or worry.  What did he have to be worried about after something like that?

“Holy crap,” he found himself saying again, eyes still locked on the broken remnants of giant robot.

“Ach.  Zhis is vhy ve do not battle in the voods.”  Medic completely ignored Scout’s gawking reaction to what had just happened, crouching beside him and reaching out to start working on pulling loose the brambles.  “Hold still, I vill have you out in a minute.”

“Doc, do you...did you...are you not aware of what you just _did_??” Scout glanced back at him.  “Doc you just picked up that freakin’ thing like it was a bag’a laundry and you punched through metal and tore it apart and-,”

“Yes, I vas zhere vhen it happened,” Medic answered flatly.  “Be still.”

“Doc!”  Scout turned as much as he could to just stare at the other man.  “Doc, man, are you seriously...I mean...I didn’t know you could do that!  That was like, somethin’ Heavy would do and you just did it!”

“Heavy is stronger zhan I am.”

“I don’t think I believe you!”  Scout pulled once at his leg, trying to get upright, but there was a swat to his backside that normally would have earned a righteous torrent of swearing, but instead he just laid still again, waiting for Medic to finish getting the brambles loose.  “Jesus Christ, Doc, why didn’t you ever say you could do that?  That would’a come in way handy a whole lotta times!”

“You don’t even know vhat just happened.  Clearly you hit your head on the vay down.”

“Bullcrap, you were healing me the whole time, even if I had, I know the difference between seein’ somethin’ and not seein’ it, and I saw that!”

Medic stopped his work on the thorns, glancing to Scout, and Scout blinked a few times at the expression on the older man’s face.  It was...calculating, devoid of emotions or anything but analysis of a situation.  He eyed Scout the way Scout thought a well-fed cat would look at a mouse wandering past...deciding whether or not it was worth it to eat the thing.  It was not an expression he wanted aimed in his direction, and when he saw Medic’s hand reach down for the bonesaw on his belt, there was a sharp spike of sudden fear.

“Doc...Medic, Doc, wh-what are you…”

“Hush.”  And just like that, as though a decision had been made, Medic turned his expression back to the brush, reaching out and hacking at it to just cut Scout free, pulling him forward from the bushes with his other hand before standing, brushing his clothing off and clipping his weaponry back into place.  “Ve vill return to zhe vehicle left for us, and I vill drive home while you get zhe rest of that pulled loose.”

Scout was relieved to get off the ground, even if he was still getting poked and scratched by knots of thorns embedded in his clothes, and was quickly on his feet.  “Medic, you can’t...I didn’t…”

“Hush.  Zhere is nothing to talk about.”  He turned away, pushing back over to the robot, crouching down and examining it before pulling out it’s bundle of money, then started back the way they’d come from in a brisk walk.  “Now let’s get out of here before anozher one comes along.”

Scout just stared after the other man, reaching down to pull off a couple of thorny vines from his leg, then took off after him.  “Wha.  But...hey, Medic, Doc, wait up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally these two chapters were one, but once I realized how long it was, and that there was a scene break almost perfectly in the middle, I split them up.


	3. Chapter 3

Engineer wasn’t the kind of guy to fret much about his teammates. Sure, they got up to a lot of foolhardy things from time to time, and sure, maybe at least a couple of them had their moments of out-and-out stupid. But overall they were all very capable of handling themselves in a dangerous situation without much need for assistance.

Still, he was concerned about Medic and Scout being gone. It would have been less so if he thought for a second that Medic would be able to wrangle Scout into any sort of obedience, but the odds of that were about as good as the odds of Demo turning down a bottle of booze for a glass of milk. He and the others had gotten back a good hour ago, long enough that they’d all gotten good and settled in at their various favorite spots...his being sprawled on the sofa in the television room...and he found himself constantly glancing at the clock on the wall. He was starting to wonder if Medic had killed the kid and was trying to figure out how to explain it before he got back.

“Don’t worry so much, Engie,” Sniper said from the recliner beside him, where the Australian was currently working on some sort of knitting project. He claimed the act was relaxing and gave his hands something to keep busy with while he was watching television. The other mercs certainly weren’t going to give him guff over it, considering how cold the nights and winters could be in the desert, and how handy the sweaters, mittens and scarves were.

The fact that Sniper had proven he could embed the needles a couple inches into the wall with a wrist flick didn’t hurt either.

“I ain’t worried,” Engie responded, making a face and adjusting his goggles. “Jus’ wonderin’ what’s taking those fools so dadgum long. Heavy’s refusing to go into town without Medic and I’m hungry.”

“Whatever you say, mate,” Sniper said with a slight snort. “Ya oughta go upstairs and have a smoke with the spook. Calm ya nerves right up.”

“Yeah, no thanks, pardner. I’m still inclined to get a backache whenever I see him.”

Sniper snorted, shaking his head slightly, letting go of one needle long enough to push his glasses back up his nose. “Whatever you think, mate. Still, just watch your Gunsmoke and stop fretting.”

“I’ve seen this episode…” Engie grumbled, resting his chin on a hand and just staring at the television.

Sniper just sort of smiled to himself, adjusting the yarn on a needle and continuing work on the scarf in his lap, occasionally glancing to the television.

The two men often found themselves together when they wanted both company and quiet, which wasn’t really the strong suit of any of their teammates. Pyro could be good for it at times, but the firebug also needed watching to avoid mishaps with suddenly melted upholstery, which was hardly relaxing. Heavy was quiet but also leaned towards outright hostility when he wanted his space and wasn’t getting it. Medic just didn’t have the attention span to sit still for long, getting distracted too easily with ideas for experiments, and either ran off or began taking things (or people) apart. Demo, Soldier, and Scout all liked to talk a little too much-or a lot too much in Scout’s case-and Spy...well. They had conflicting opinions on Spy.

It wasn’t the worst thing to base a friendship on, after all, a mutual distaste for loneliness and unwanted noise.

Several more minutes passed in an amicable silence, save for the faint banter from the television show, before the faint sound of a distant engine reached their ears. “Well, there ya go,” Sniper said, looking up. “At least someone’s coming back.”

“I knew they were comin’ back, ya dummy,” Engineer said lightly, getting up with a slight groan and pushing at his back to crack it into place before heading out to the main foyer of their fort.

“Ya sure weren’t acting like it, ya bloody wanker,” Sniper responded, just as jovially, not even looking up from what seemed like a complicated maneuver with his needles.

Engie just rolled his eyes and headed into the main foyer of the base, seeing Heavy in a corner recliner, apparently nose-deep in some thick gun manual, and Demo and Soldier engaged in a non-stop poker game that they always came right back to whenever they weren’t otherwise occupied.

He knew one person was missing, but also knew Pyro was up in their shared room, likely playing with Figaro, the little black-and-white kitten that had sort of shown up one day as though she had always lived there. She fit right in with the rest of the odd menagerie of animals that the mercs kept around. Between the variety of birds, the herd of raccoons, Scout’s squirrel that God only knew where it came from, and the zoo of downright terrifying creatures that Sniper had at any one time, Figaro was about the most normal animal around.

Even now, Demo’s parrot was perched on his head, turning it’s head this way and that as though focused on the handful of cards it’s owner was holding, and Soldier had his favorite raccoon, Lieutenant Bites, clinging to his arm with...teeth, as it sometimes did. If Soldier was even aware of this, he wasn’t making any fuss about it, which proved both that he adored his rabid little critters and that he was wrong in the head to an amazing degree. Not that this was the one thing that made that obvious. The soup can balanced on top of his helmet was doing a good enough job of that.

“Why-?” Engie started to say, before just shaking his head, putting a hand to his face. “Never mind. There are just some things man weren’t meant to ask.”

“It keeps me parrot from stealin’ his thoughts n’ tellin’ me his play,” Demo said without looking up from rearranging his hand of cards.

“Correct! That parrot is a known traitor to America, and it will stop at nothing to sabotage me, and through me, the entirety of the U! S! A!” Soldier said triumphantly, slamming his non-bitten arm against the table with each letter, before looking at his cards, then tossing a couple of chips into the center. “I am calling your bluff.”

Demo just nodded, as though none of this were strange. “Aye, what he said.” He tossed a couple chips onto the table as well. “Raise.” He took a long swig of his bottle of liquor and belched before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Sometimes it becomes obvious why you two get along,” Engie said, shaking his head before turning to walk over to Heavy, who by this point had heard the approaching vehicle and was marking his place in his book with a dog-eared corner.

“Good. Doktor and Scout are home,” he said, nodding as he set the manual aside, going to open the door for them. Before he even reached it, however, it burst open, Scout charging in full speed, already chattering a million miles a second.

“Oh my God oh my God you guys shoulda seen it you shoulda seen what happened out there it was the most freakin’ awesome thing I’ve ever been a part of, it was freakin’ amazing, that robot didn’t know what hit it I swear to God you shoulda been there-!”

Engie actually reached out, gloved hand covering up Scout’s face to stop his jabbering and running around in circles like an overstimulated puppy. “Slow down there, son, ‘fore you bite your damn tongue clean off.”

Normally Scout would have reacted to this with a scathing series of insults, but it didn’t even seem to phase him, he just smacked Engie’s hand aside, still grinning. “Man, Engineer, oh my God, it was the freakin’ best!”

“What is all ze noise?” came from the stairwell, as Spy was glaring down, apparently having left his smoking room to investigate the sudden burst of chatter. Even Sniper was peeking in from the TV room, holding his needles in one hand as though ready to launch them.

“Vould you stop!” Medic broke in, running in the door from having finally gotten their vehicle parked. “Zhat is all you have talked about all the vay home!”

“How can you _not_ be talkin’ about it?” Scout looked at the others. “So all right, I was chasin’ the damn robot that was alive, okay, and I got it and I killed it because I’m awesome like that, and the doc catches up to me, right? And we’re arguing because we argue you all know that but then we start hearing this boom boom boom noise right, and it’s a freakin’ giant me-bot with the bat and all that you know and I hate those things, so-,”

Medic abruptly stepped forward, grinning and throwing an arm around Scout’s shoulders, shaking his head in apparent amusement. “Oh, all right, I vill give you zhis one. Scout managed to defeat zhe uber-bot all by himself!”

“What?” came the chorus from the rest of the room.

“Huh?” Scout said, looking at Medic incredulously.

“Oh yes! I vas _barely_ able to assist him. It vas truly a sight to behold!” One gloved hand settled on top of Scout’s head, roughly tousling his hair. “Our young friend has been holding back on vhat he is truly capable of!”

“Hm. The Scout slacking. There is big surprise,” Heavy said with a rather palpable tinge of sarcasm.

“First of all, screw you,” Scout said, making a face as he pulled away from Medic’s hand, trying to smooth his hair back down. “Second, that ain’t what happened, we-,”

Medic quickly caught the younger man in a near headlock, pulling his head down with an amicable chuckle and lightly drilling his knuckles into his head. “Oh, do not pretend to be modest now, you should brag! You have done very vell!” Without releasing his grip, Medic looked to Heavy. “By the vay, Scout made me a bet on the ride home. He bet me that you could not carry him at full run all the vay to the edge of the base vithout slowing down!”

“Wait, _what_??” Scout demanded, trying to wriggle himself out of Medic’s grip.

Heavy raised his eyebrows at this, looking from Scout to the grinning Medic, before letting a grin of his own form. “Leetle man thinks his tiny baby weight will slow down Heavy? I win you this bet, Doktor!”

“Wait, wait, no no no no-!” Scout tried to squirm loose from Medic, but only did in time for Heavy to grab him by the waist and toss him over a shoulder, the giant taking off in the closest approximation of a sprint he was capable of right back out the door, ignoring Scout’s shouts of protest on the way across the mottled fort yard.

Medic just allowed himself a chortle, walking over to Engie and Spy as he worked on unfastening his pack and equipment. “Easiest tventy dollars I’ve ever made.”

“Riiiiiiight,” Engie said, looking at Medic expectantly. “And you’re gonna explain why you were behavin’ like a jackrabbit in a den of foxes just now too, right?”

Medic didn’t answer, just chuckling again as he finished removing his gear, as well as his labcoat and gloves, and looked to Engineer with a bright smile as he rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, leaving it and his vest and tie on. “Ve’ll discuss it after I get home. Could you take zhese zhings down to the laboratory for me? And vhile you are zhere, I have finished zhe blueprints for zhat upgrade you vanted.” He tapped Engie’s gloved hand, before abruptly dumping all his gear and coat into the other man’s arms, turning to jog for the door. “Ve vill all be back vith dinner soon!” And without so much as another word, he was out and chasing after Heavy and Scout.

Engineer watched him go, just holding the pile of equipment in his arms, before turning to look at Spy, who was frowning after the doctor. “Did that whole experience seem completely off to you?”

Spy just raised an eyebrow at him, casually retrieving a cigarette from his case and bringing it to his lips, and without a word, turned back towards the stairs, glanced at his watch and vanished from sight with little more than a faint hissing, despite Engineer’s flinch at the sudden disappearance.

“Damnit, boy, you know I hate it when you do that…” he grumbled, ignoring the chuckles from Soldier and Demo at their card table and Sniper in the doorway. Engie just rolled his eyes, then turned to head down to the basement and put away Medic’s gear. Well, he was getting some fresh blueprints out of this, at least.

()

Heavy could move surprisingly quickly for such a large man, and by the time Medic had caught up to him, he was already standing at the dirt road that lead from the base to the nearby town, one hand on a hip, the other still bracing Scout over his shoulder, despite the clearly displeased expression on the face of the younger man.

“You are not funny,” Scout grumbled at Medic when he saw him. “You know that, right? You are a freakin’ jerk.”

“Yes, vell, if you had control over zhat mouth of yours, ve vould not be having zhis little issue, now vould ve?” Medic looked to Heavy, whose jovial expression had vanished seemingly into his usual disinterested scowl, unless one knew enough about Heavy to recognize the faint squint of his eyes that betrayed concern.

“I did not expect us to have company on walk, Doktor.”

“Yeah, I don’t really wanna intrude on you two lovebirds and your weird-ass private time either,” Scout growled.

“Shut up,” Medic replied to Scout, before looking at Heavy, pausing before he responded. “He saw me.”

There was another pause before Heavy’s eyebrows went up. “Scout saw you...doing things you should not do?”

“Ja,” Medic responded. “I had no choice, he vould have been killed. I acted before really zhinking it over.”

“You know, I’m right here,” Scout muttered, wriggling around to try and get loose before just hanging limp from Heavy’s shoulder. “Also there is no part of me that’s surprised that of course _you_ know about this, you giant fat-fat.”

Heavy considered, then made a displeased sighing sound. “So what do we do? You want Heavy crush his ribs?”

“ _WHAT??_ ”

Medic waved a hand. “No, no. I considered zhat. Even if I vanted to kill him, zhere vould be too much scrutiny.”

“Oh my God!” Scout set to squirming and struggling again, trying to get out of Heavy’s grip, but the larger man just tightened his hold without a word. “You can’t be freakin’ serious!”

“Accidents happen all the time,” Heavy said with a bit of a shrug, unconcerned with his flailing captive. “He could just fall off bridge. Perhaps land in front of truck. Not unbelieveable.”

“Yes, but, no. Let’s try somezhing else first. If zhat doesn’t vork, ve can always fall back on killing him.”

“You are not killin’ me!” Scout shouted, still trying to pull himself loose. “You crazy ass weird-!”

“Scout, hush,” Medic said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I said, I do not _vant_ to kill you. As I _said_ , there vould be too much attention, it vould be too difficult to explain to our teammates or zhe Administrator vhy you had to die vizhout explaining the very zhing ve vould have killed you to silence.” He shook his head. “You are very bad at listening.”

“Kinda hard to pay attention to anything but the part where you wanna kill me because you can lift a damn giant robot over your head and no one else knows but your boyfriend here!” Scout gave the best glare he could while basically hanging upside-down, which wasn’t terribly impressive, really.

“Make joke about Heavy and Doktor again, I crush your ribs anyway,” Heavy groused.

“Who’s makin’ a joke?”

“That is it! I crush-!”

Medic shook his head, stepping closer, patting Heavy’s arm. “Set him down.”

Heavy glowered slightly, clearly wanting to through with his threat. “Medic?”

“Don’t let go of him just yet but set him down.”

Heavy looked rather skeptical about this, but finally shifted Scout’s weight to put his feet on the ground, hands still clutched around the smaller man’s upper arms, a faint sneer to his lip making it obvious he was still irritated. Scout was just glaring up at Medic, chin up, jutted forward, fists clenched, every bit of his posture defiance.

“You got some freakin’ nerve, old man!” he spat.

“I am sorry about zhis,” Medic said, voice softening slightly. “But Scout, it is of utmost importance zhat you understand zhe situation.”

“That you want me dead because you’ve been lying to us all this time about what you can do?? No, I think I’ve got that part!”

“Zhat is not the part!” Medic rubbed his forehead with a groan. “Ugh, if you vere not understanding zhat part I would kill you for just being so much of an _idiot_.”

“Yeah, well you-!”

“Scout, Doktor!” Heavy frowned. “Not time to fight. Time for explanation.”

Medic grimaced, but nodding. “Ja, ja. You are correct, Heavy.” Still, he seemed obviously hesitant, almost visibly cringing where he stood.

After a few seconds of this, Heavy looked down at Scout. “Scout, how old are you now?”

“24, why?” Scout asked, raising an eyebrow.

Heavy seemed to do a little thinking. “So, born...in...1948?”

“Yeah, what’s that gotta do with anything?”

“So you have no memory of the war.”

“...World War II? No, but I have had a history class or two before, and I know that most’a you guys were involved in it some place or another.” Scout glanced at Medic, who was looking to the side, seeming unusually subdued, and a clear expression of confusion came to the young man’s face. “Whhhhhhy?”

“Do your history classes discuss...HYDRA?”

“The guys Captain America beat the living crap out of?” Scout grinned. “Hell yeah they did! You know, one’a my brothers met Cap once, my oldest brother shook his hand at a USO show, back before he got out there and started whuppin’ Nazi ass left and right, we still got the picture back at home!”

“Actually, HYDRA vere not zhe same as the Nazis…” Medic muttered. “Zhey were a parasite of zhe Nazis zhat grew out of control…”

“Eh, HYDRA, Nazis, two groups’a bad guys with a cranky little tinpot dictator at the front, same diff.”

“Is zhat vat your ‘history classes’ told you? Zhat any group of bad people led by a German man are Nazis?? It is considerably more complex zhan just zhat ridiculous oversimplification, Scout!” Medic snarled with a sudden vehemence, voice rising to a near shout as he continued. “You cannot combine zhe two simply because zhey existed in zhe same place at zhe same time! You know nozhing about vat HYDRA or Johann Schmidt vere like inside!”

Scout blinked at the outburst, before a sudden awareness dawned on his face. “Oh my God. And...and you... _do_...don’t you?”

Medic sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. “It is not vat you zthink.”

“You were part of freakin’ HYDRA!” Scout just gaped at him. “Oh my God, you were one’a them-,”

“I vas _not_ one of zhem!” Medic bellowed, grabbing Scout by the front of his shirt, shaking him hard enough that Heavy actually had to reach out and push the doctor off. “I never vanted to be zhere and I never vanted to be vat zhey made me!”

“Whoa, doc! Calm down!” Scout held up his hands defensively, actually sort of scooting back against Heavy. “What...what do you mean by ‘what they made you’?”

Medic just stood there, still seething, but after a long moment, took in several deep breaths, calming himself. “If you promise not to run avay...you can valk vith Heavy and I into town and I vill tell you everyzhing. Zhen you vill understand vhy zhis has to be kept secret. Do ve have a deal?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Scout said, still clearly baffled. “Doc, yeah, for sure, I don’t, I mean. I ain’t gonna run.”

Medic nodded, glancing to Heavy, who looked rather skeptical, but finally unclenched his grip on Scout’s arms, and though he quickly stepped away from the giant Russian, Scout just looked expectantly at the two of them, waiting for an explanation.

“All right. Come on. Zhis is a razher...bizarre story.” Medic turned to the road and started walking, with Scout keeping pace right beside him and Heavy on the doctor’s other side, silent and staring forward as they began the trip.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See end of chapter for clarification on things.

_Austrian HYDRA facility, 1943._

()

“You sure know how to show a guy a good time, Cap!”

Steve Rogers rolled his eyes, holding up his shield to block off shots from the HYDRA minions that were trying to slow he and his team down, before launching it full power at them, knocking the group backwards and to the ground, allowing Dum Dum on his other side to mow them down easily.

“You know, someday, you’re gonna have to explain to me how that works,” Bucky Barnes piped up from behind him, as Cap’s shield rebounded back to his hand, and he pushed it back onto his arm.

“Just instinct, really,” Steve answered, charging forward with the other two at his side.  This was the third HYDRA base they’d tracked down and infiltrated, and they were well on their way to destroying it and rooting out one more bit of HYDRA’s stranglehold on the world.  The other half of the Commandos, Gabe Jones, Jim Morita, James Montgomery Falsworth, and Jacques Dernier, were elsewhere in the building, wreaking as much havoc as possible, while the three of them were just trying to infiltrate as fast and hard as possible, looking for any potential prisoners or info before it could be destroyed or escaped with.

“According to this, there’s a medical ward ahead,” Bucky said, squinting at a sign written in German.  “We better check it out in case there’s something that hasn’t been moved yet.”

“Good idea, buddy,” Dum Dum answered, turning a corner and immediately pumping a bullet between the eyes of another guard that had the misfortune to be standing right in their path.  The three men kept running, all of them smirking to themselves a little at the distant sound of a raucous explosion...clearly their teammates were doing their job and doing it well.

“You think those idiots know not to blow up the parts of the building we’re in?” Bucky asked, using his rifle butt to knock a fleeing guard in the head and put him on the ground, out cold.

“Well, if they don’t, I imagine we’ll know before they do,” Steve responded, reaching the area of the building that was supposed to be the ward, but frowning when instead there was a long hallway of heavily reinforced doors.  “Oh damn.  This isn’t a medical ward at all, this looks more like a prison.”

“More of Zola’s experiments, I’d wager,” Bucky said with a rather bitter tinge to his voice.  “God knows what we’re gonna find here.”

“Well, considering what we know about Zola, we better check all of these,” Steve answered.  He took one side of the hall, with Bucky and Dum Dum working over the other, starting to kick in doors and look for anything.  Most of the rooms were thankfully empty, but when he was to the third from last, Steve’s initial kick to the steel door was answered by a pair of startled cries, and what sounded like people scrambling around.

“Sounds like you’ve got something,” Dum Dum said, looking back.

“And they don’t sound enthused to see us, so be ready,” Steve said, pulling his shield in front of him, taking a few steps back, then charging the door full speed, slamming into it hard enough to cause it to break halfway off it’s hinges, creaking against the wall.

No attack followed, and Steve hesitated before proceeding into the cell, Bucky right behind him to cover his back.  “What is it?” he asked, looking around at the door.

“Geh weg!  Geh weg!” a somewhat shrill voice began screaming from the corner.  Bucky peeked around Steve’s shield, blinking a few times at the sight.

Two figures were huddled in the corner, though he could only see the one.  The second was actually cowering under a scratchy looking white blanket and completely out of view, but the other was a shivering man dressed in some sort of long white gown, apparently in his late 20’s or early 30’s, with wild dark hair and wide, terrified blue eyes.  Despite that, he continued shrieking at them.

“Geh weg!”  The man all but bared his teeth, clenching his fists.  “Komm nicht in der Nähe von mir!”

“Uh.  Bucky?”  Steve glanced over at his teammate.

“German.  Basically he wants us to get the hell away from him.”

“Can you tell him we’re here to help?” Steve glanced out at Dum Dum, who was still guarding the hallway in case of other guards showing up, but breaking into the other rooms to search for any more prisoners or intel.

Bucky nodded, holding up a hand and starting to speak in a slow, calm voice, obviously trying to be reassuring.  The man responded with a hissed litany of words that Steve couldn’t even begin to parse.  “...I think he just said he’ll chew us off at the knees if we try to touch him.”

“Schweinehund!” the man spat, glaring at Steve.

“Also he just called you a-,”

“I...I got that one, Buck, thanks.  Okay.  Try to talk to him, make him understand that we can get him and his friend out of here,” Steve responded, moving closer to the door to keep an eye out.  Bucky rolled his eyes, but turned, trading more gentle patter with the prisoner’s scathing threats.

After a few minutes, though, Bucky looked over.  “Well, I asked him for his name, and he just started reciting numbers. He doesn’t know where he came from, the guy behind him won’t respond to anything, and I can’t make him understand that we aren’t HYDRA.  And he is very creative in the various ways he’s going to kill us if we don’t get out.”

“Well we can’t leave him here,” Steve said, frowning, before starting towards the man.  The prisoner scooted back, looking like a spooked cat, pupils flooding away the dark blue irises and shoulders hunched up and tensed, all his muscles bunching as though getting ready to launch into an attack.

“Steve, you know those bad ideas you have sometimes?  It’s happening right now.”

“I think I can handle him,” Steve said, holding up his hands, trying to look harmless, speaking in a soft voice.  “Hey, buddy, come on.  No one wants to hurt you.  We want to help you.  We want to take you somewhere-,”

As soon as Cap had walked what was apparently one step too close to the prisoner, the man did exactly what Bucky knew he was going to do.  He lunged with a scream of fear and rage, going straight for Cap.  Clearly, the captain was ready for this, moving to catch the man, expecting his serum-enhanced strength to protect him.

To pretty much everyone’s surprise though, Steve let out a gasp and a grunt when he was hit hard enough to be sent sprawling backwards, the man on top of him, still shrieking violence in German, all but clawing at his would-be rescuer with a strength that that was beyond what could be expected from a mere frightened man.

“Steve!”  Bucky rushed forward, drawing back his rifle and slamming the butt of it hard into the man’s temple, but the guy barely even flinched, just drawing back slightly and staring up at Bucky.  Steve took the chance to kick his legs up, hooking them around the man’s arms and shifting his weight forward hard, flinging the prisoner off and to the floor, rolling through to try and get on top of him to hold him down.

“What the hell are you two doing in there??” Dum Dum shouted, running over to see Captain America rolling and wrestling with a flailing and panicking German.  “Oh mother of Joseph, what the…?”

Cap was clearly having to expend a lot of effort to try and keep the man down, still getting the errant punches and slaps, before finally managing to get the guy rolled onto his front on top of his own arms, then just all but laying on top of him, trying to catch his breath as the struggling continued.  “I don’t suppose either of you have anything for this?”

“I found a room’a restraints and things two doors down.  Think this answers what they were for,” Dum Dum said, shaking his head.  “I’ll go get a few.”  He glanced to the blanket-covered figure still huddled in the corner, shivering and making unintelligible muttering noises.  “What about that one?”

“Get extras just in case, but hopefully that guy’ll let us move him without this much of a fight.”  Bucky looked down at the other man.  “God I hope not, because I don’t want to try and carry off two people freaking out with super-strength.”

“Better send a message ahead to Howard when we get out,” Cap panted out between gasps for breath, having to bear down again when he was nearly bucked off.  “We need somewhere really secure to put these two until we can figure out what’s going on.”

()

The trip back had been a disaster.  The other half of the Commandos had done their job and done it well, but they were rather alarmed to arrive at the rendezvous to find they were heavy two more people, one of whom was chained and throwing a massive fit.  Cap, Bucky, and Dum Dum had been glad to discover the second prisoner was perfectly content to come along with them, as long as they didn’t try to remove the blanket, but the dark-haired man had continued to fight with them every single step of the way despite being bound.

It wasn’t until they were on their transport and halfway back to the base that the man had finally run out of steam, giving up enough to squirm himself into the corner with his companion and huddle against the other, giving all of them a death glare, occasionally spitting rather vile-sounding things at them that Bucky and Gabe both refused to translate.  Anyone trying to come too close took a serious risk of getting their hand bitten, and “too close” seemed to change at rather arbitrary times, so what was a safe distance a second before suddenly became prime assault bait.

The whole squad was relieved to arrive back at base and let some of the other soldiers focus on moving the two men out of the truck and guide them to a safe holding zone that Howard Stark and Colonel Phillips had already had put together.

Cap wasn’t able to check on things with the prisoners for a couple days, thanks to needing to debrief and then help out with preliminary planning for the target of their next assault.  But at one point nearly a week later, Bucky had shown up to fetch him, saying Howard needed to speak to them.

When they arrived, Steve was startled at first to see Howard actually sitting calmly at a table in the room with both of the former captives, now dressed in slightly more modest standard shirts and pants. The previously vicious man was sitting apparently happily next to him, patting lightly at his friend, who apparently was still getting some mileage out of hiding under that blanket.  The man looked at them as they entered, and immediately turned a concerned gaze to Howard, but the inventor just smiled faintly to offer reassurance.

“How is he not biting you?  He bit me,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows.

“Lots and lots of care and patience, my friend.”  Howard glanced to the man, sitting beside him.  “Our friend here just needed to be reassured that we despise Johann Schmidt and HYDRA as much as he seems to, and we don’t have any intent on causing him or his friend there any harm.”

Steve and Bucky hesitantly sat down across the table, Bucky looking to the man and saying something in German, which the guy perked up at and repeated in a rather giddy fashion.

“Turns out he doesn’t entirely speak German,” Howard said.  “A fair lot of it, yes, but most of it’s violent or orders regarding medical procedures and...some other unsavory business.  He can communicate pretty basically, but…”  He shrugged.  “Seems like he learned only by listening to whoever was talking around him.”

“So what’s going on with him, anyway?” Bucky asked, as Howard picked up a file folder and slid the papers over to Steve.

“See for yourself.”

Steve frowned, picking up the paper to read it, Bucky leaning over to take a look as well.  “...they’re supersoldiers?” Steve finally said, looking concerned.

“According to the files Dum Dum stole, they’re both part of some ongoing experiments of Zola’s to try and perfect his serum.  That’s why this guy only referred to himself by numbers rather than a name, I think.”  Howard leaned forward to point to the designations on the paper.  “He’s SJ-014, and his friend there is DJ-004.”  He grimaced.  “Only surviving members of whatever those particular experimental lines were.  There were sixteen other files on...what I will charitably refer to as failed experiments.”

“But they were…”  Bucky paused.  “Surviving.  Oh God.  What the hell was Zola doing with them?”

“Apparently he was trying to modify his serum for different results.  Boosting different subsets of the power it granted.  Here, watch this.”  He dug into the front pocket of his vest before taking out a small pocket knife, opening the blade, looking to the man next to him and holding it up in a questioning manner.  The man looked at it, at him, then nodded, abruptly reaching out and swiping the palm of his hand harshly over the edge of the blade.

Steve and Bucky reacted immediately.  “Howard, what are you-??”  “Jesus, Howard!”

“Just watch.”

“Christ, man, you can’t just let him do that!”  Bucky reached into his own pocket for a handkerchief, leaning forward to grab the guy’s wrist and turn his hand over, starting to wipe away the blood and cleaning the wound, even as the man tilted his head at Bucky curiously.  “We need some iodine or some…thing.”  Bucky lifted the hankie to take a look at the wound, and stopped when he saw that the expected gash was nothing more at this point than a red line across the guy’s skin. Even as he and Steve watched, that line slowly faded away and out of sight, leaving only the smooth skin behind.

“Howard...what does this mean?”

“Healing factor.”  Howard nodded.  “Like your’s, Steve, but accelerated even further.  He’s not any stronger or faster than you, but he recovers from injuries at a ridiculous rate.  Like I said, Zola was modifying his own attempts at the serum, and at least in these cases, he was successful.”

“What about our other new friend?” Bucky asked, sitting down and looking at the huddled form still silent at the end of the table.

“Can’t quite figure out what’s going on there.  Stronger than expected, but not quite as fast...no idea if there’s anything else going on since apparently letting him stay underneath that blanket is the only way to keep any more panicky screaming attacks from happening.”  Howard sort of made a face.  “There’s a lot of screaming without the blanket.”

Steve frowned as he looked more over the files.  “Some of this is just gibberish.”

“Coded.  We’ve got folks working on it.”  Howard shrugged a little.  “We’re hoping there might be explanations as to who these folks were before Zola got his hands on them, since whatever was done, they can’t remember anything about their previous identities.”

“Yeah...I can see where that could be an issue,” Bucky muttered, frowning.  “So what do we do with them?”

“Well, our friend here shows interest in a lot of the goings-on here at home base,” Howard answered.  “Now that we’ve convinced him not to try and tear us all to shreds, he likes to walk around and ask questions about things, figure out how they work.  He seems very intelligent, there’s just a language barrier we’re still working on dealing with.”

“I can teach him, then,” Bucky said with a shrug.  “Give me something to do during downtime while Steviepants here is deciding how we’re going to stomp the heads of HYDRA the next go-round.”  Bucky snorted when Steve reached out to slap him on the arm without even looking up from the papers.  “But hey. If he’s that smart then teaching him German...and English...should go fairly well.”

“That’ll work.  And maybe with his help we can get through to his friend there too.  For the time being, they can just stay around the base here, and if we can find some little something they can do to help out, all the better.”

Steve finally set down the file, sliding it back to Howard, nodding.  “I want to know as soon as the rest of this is translated.  If we can find a home to take them back to, I’ll escort them personally.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” Howard answered, picking the folder back up.  “Meantime, Miss Carter needs to see you about some intel we’ve intercepted.  Something about a weird ship sighted off the coast.”

“You got it.”  Steve clapped a hand to Bucky’s shoulder as he got to his feet.  “Just try to keep your hands away from his mouth, punk.”

“Try to keep your girl from shooting you again, jerk,” Bucky answered without hesitation, offering a cheeky grin to Steve’s glare, before turning back to Howard and the strange man.  “I’ll tell you what, Stark.  I think the first thing our friend needs is a name.”

()

That seemed to be the end of the story, so far as Medic was concerned, and Scout just stared at him in uncharacteristic silence.  “So.  Zhat is zhat,” Medic said with a shrug.

“There ain’t nothing ‘that’ about that,” Scout said.  “I mean...what did...what did you do after that?"

Medic sighed a little, reaching up to adjust his glasses.  “I stayed on the base for a little less zhan a year.  Zhe first few veeks vere spent vith Sergeant Barnes, learning how to speak properly.  Or as properly as I could learn from him.”  A somewhat wry smile came to his face at the memory.  “I vas taught to read, to write...educated as best as one could be in zhe middle of a varzone.  Vhen I vas able, I joined the var effort against HYDRA, first as a vorker in the labs, and...after ve lost Barnes and zhen zhe captain...since I vas a supersoldier in my own right, I entered zhe field and began joining battles myself.”

“Holy crap!  You were like, a Howling Commando??”

“Not precisely…” Medic answered.  “Zhey...carried on as best zhey could.  Sergeant Dugan vas a good leader and zhe men vere skilled in zheir own rights even vizhout Captain Rogers.  Given my...unusual past and abilities, I became more of a...hidden agent, so to speak.  Taking on missions zhat could not be allowed to be traced back to zhe Americans. Finding and rooting out remaining influences of HYDRA vere zhey could be found.”

Scout just kept staring.  “Then like...I mean...w-why would you never mention that, man?  You’re like a freakin’ war hero!”

“First, because I am no hero, Scout,” Medic said, a little more sternly than he intended.  “I vas an assassin, little more zhan a mercenary zhen as now.”  He looked away from the shorter man, sighing and adjusting his glasses.  “Second, because...I am in hiding.”

“In hiding?  What the crap does a Captain America supersoldier got to hide from?”

Medic glanced to Heavy, and the larger man was silent before nodding slightly, letting out a breath.  “HYDRA...is not gone, Scout,” Heavy finally said.

“...what?  But Captain America stopped them, that’s what everyone says.”

“Zhe same history books zhat told you Nazis and HYDRA vere the same zhing, I am sure,” Medic said with a roll of his eyes.

“Well they were!”

Medic let out a very long-suffering sigh.  “Your schooling has failed you.”  He looked to Scout.  “HYDRA is an organization vith it’s own motives, it’s own agenda.  Under Johann Schmidt, zhat was to bring zhe vorld to heel under his leadership, to his vill.  He believed zhat people such as himself...people who vere...more zhan human, vere zhe future, zhat zhe veak must be eliminated in order to raise up zhe powerful.  Similar to the mindset of Nazis, yes, but vhereas zhe Nazis held a particular set of standards as to vhat zhey believed vas zhe superior race...to Johann Schmidt, zhe superior race vas somezhing to be built, to be created.”

“I ain’t seein’ the difference here, doc.  Besides, he worked with the Nazis.  So he was a Nazi.”

“You vork vith Heavy und myself, does zhat make you a supersoldier?”

Scout blinked at that, then whipped to look at Heavy.  “Freakin’ you too?!”

“Ve vill get to zhat.”  Medic reached out to pat Heavy on the arm, as the large man had a peculiar expression on his face...a pained, exhausted-looking one.  “Here is zhe difference, Scout.  If our base vas attacked by Nazis, who do you zhink zhey vould simply kill?”  He held up a hand before Scout could answer.  “Demoman, obviously.  Soldier is mentally ill, Engineer is missing a limb.  And zhere are reasons zhat zhe Spy and Sniper vould be...unacceptable.”

“Yeah...yeah, I...know about those reasons…” Scout said, making a face.

Medic glanced sideways at him.  “Do you disapprove?”

“Well, not really.”  Scout raised an eyebrow when both Medic and Heavy gave him a surprised face.  “Doc.  Give me a break.  I can jump on air, Engie talks to computers, Pyro burns things, Spy can turn into stuff and Sniper bleeds acid.  We were all born like that.  So if someone tells me they were born likin’ dudes why am I questionin’ it at this point?  I just think the two’a them are gross.  S’like imagin’ two’a my brothers doin’ it.”  He shuddered a bit.  “Ugh.”

Medic paused before chuckling slightly.  “Vell...zhat is...more mature zhan I expected from you, Scout.”

Scout muttered a bit.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  So, Nazis.”

“Yes.  Zhe Nazis vould eliminate over half of us.”

“So what would Johann Schmidt and HYDRA do?”

“Zhey vould take us all.”

Scout glanced sideways at him.  “Um.  So...that’s s’posed to be worse?  Dunno, but I feel like a group that takes everyone is better than one that arbitrarily kills people for what they are.”

“You don’t understand vhat I mean, Scout.  Zhey vould take us.  Zhere vould be no death for us.  HYDRA vould exploit every resource ve could provide, zhey vould tear every useful bit out of our bodies and souls, devour us from the inside out and make our power zheir own.  Zhat is vhat zhe history books missed vhen discussing HYDRA’s relations vith Nazis.  HYDRA vas not a part of zhem zhat splintered later. Johann Schmidt and HYDRA vere a parasite inside zhem, stealing life and power from zhe more powerful host.  Comparable to a flea on a sewer rat...both vermin, both horrible creatures zhat vould do anyzhing to survive, vould destroy anyzhing it needed in order to forward it’s own life.  But one is far more destructive zhan zhe ozher.  Zhe rat might transport zhe flea...but zhe flea is zhe one zhat spreads a disease.”

Scout frowned a little, apparently pondering over that for a moment.  “All right, well...whatever, okay, fine.  But that don’t answer why you’re, you know...in hiding.”

“Because as Heavy said.  HYDRA is not gone.”

“Doktor and I work together for years,” Heavy said.  “Medic saved me from...bad situation, and we fight HYDRA together, then fight other enemies when we think they are beaten.  Until about six, seven years ago.”

“Ve vere infiltrating vhat ve zhought vas a group of a...different organization.”  Medic grimaced.  “Zhere vas an army hidden inside, ve vere vorking our vay towards destroying it…”

There was a silence, both men seeming uncomfortable, even as Scout looked between them.  “Wh-what?  What happened?”

Medic blew out a breath.  “...it turns out...Johann Schmidt did not die in zhe var, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am stating for the record, this is a work of fiction, and the opinions and points of view given by the characters are their own and in their own reality. Translation: Don't spam me with messages about how "HYDRA are totes Nazis!" or call me names for "minimizing what the Nazis did" or anything like that. This is part of the MCU-verse, or A MCU-verse, and in that verse, this is what it is. If you think this all seems out of place, just be patient. There's still a lot of story to go.
> 
> Just remember, just because characters in a story say, believe, or do certain things, that does NOT mean the author approves, agrees, or condones these things.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ain't...dead?" Scout stared at Medic. "But...he was on the plane with Captain America that went down. And Cap killed him before even that! He should be like, super dead!"

Medic shrugged, reaching up to adjust his glasses. "And yet, zhere he vas. Preparing to lead his new army in anozher attempt at taking over zhe vorld."

"So...what'd you do?"

Medic sighed slightly, reaching up to push up his glasses, frowning a little. "We fled."

"Doktor is...very big enemy of all HYDRA," Heavy said. "Johann Schmidt hates him especially. Consider him traitor for not remaining under HYDRA."

Scout scowled. "A traitor for not stayin' a lab rat?"

Medic's voice took on a false cheerfulness, clearly quite bitter beneath it. "Oh, but zhey vere making me _perfect_ , you see. A true _ubermensch_ , a supersoldier unlike any ozher."

"HYDRA get further with Heavy than with Medic," Heavy said, looking to Medic, pausing before reaching up with his right hand to seem to grip at the skin of his left arm. "Doktor. I show?"

"You might as vell, at zhis point."

Heavy nodded, looking to Scout, then actually rolling back the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing, pinching at what looked like a thin scar all around the limb. To Scout's shock, however, the skin seemed to peel away at Heavy's pull, and for a split second he was horrified at the sight...but then what was beneath revealed itself...a heavy-looking, dark metal arm, bolted and plated over, looking like it should weigh down any normal man. Heavy, however, merely revealed the limb, slightly wiggling the dull gray fingers, holding the strange loose bit of whatever he'd been covering it with in his other hand.

"What…?" Scout stared a second, then stepped closer, reaching out to tap his fingers at the metal arm, eyes widening when it clinked under his fingertips. "Okay. That is different."

"This is part of what HYDRA did to me," Heavy said, turning his hand over. "One part of many."

"Wow…" Scout tapped at the hand again, putting his palm against the metal one. "It's...how do you not punch off everyone's heads?"

"I control this hand very well. If I punch full power, I use right." Heavy shook his head slightly. "Even that is sometimes too much."

"Heavy received a treatment...somevhat similar to vhat zhe Red Skull received," Medic said, reaching out to take the strange skin covering, starting to try and put it back on Heavy's arm.

"It was when Heavy was in gulag." Heavy just held up his arm to let Medic work. "My father killed, I am made to work. Heavy was always stronger than any man, so has lots of attention from people who want me to...do things. Guards do...many terrible things I see, cannot stop. One day, little pig face man come to Heavy, says he can fix me to stop people who hurt us." Heavy scowled deeply. "Tells me to join him, his organization, we fight to stop bad people like guards. Protect innocent people, children, save world. Heavy is young man, stupid man. Can think of nothing but hurting people who hurt Heavy's family. So say yes. Man is named Arnim Zola. Organization is HYDRA."

Scout just stared up at the taller man, even as Medic was finishing reattaching whatever it was that made the metal arm look like a normal one. "You...you joined HYDRA…?" Scout said in a much softer voice than would have seemed possible from him.

"Zhis vas many years ago, before you vere even born," Medic said. "And Heavy vas younger zhan you are now."

"Heavy knew nothing of HYDRA. Was in work camp from beginning of war, knew nothing but what HYDRA told." Heavy grimaced. "Is single greatest regret of my life, spending years working with such evil people."

"You have more zhan made up for it, _herzchen_ ," Medic said, smiling a little and patting his arm, at least managing with that to soften the grim look on the giant's face.

Scout looked between them. "So...you turned on HYDRA and...worked with him and his stuff, or somethin'?"

"Yes. There was...incident. That showed Heavy how terrible men were that I was with. Doktor was there and helped me escape. I have been with him ever since."

Scout half-raised his eyebrows, holding out one hand slightly and waggling it a bit. "So...when you say 'with him'...?"

"Scout!" Medic scolded, before stopping, just letting out a slightly exasperated sigh. "No. Heavy and I are not lovers." He turned back to check the covering on Heavy's arm again. "Ve are closer zhan lovers, but until you have lived vith zhe zhings ve have experienced and dealt vith in our lives, I vould not expect you to understand vhat zhat means."

"Heavy is not interested in such things," the big man muttered. "People become so caught up in romance, and become silly and distracted."

Medic snorted slightly, shaking his head a little ruefully, but then he sighed, looking back at Scout. "Zhe point of all zhis is, Scout...I vas afraid for my life. Johann Schmidt vants more zhan anyzhing to destroy me, or vorse, bring me back into his control. It is perhaps zhe most frightening prospect I can comprehend...zhe zhought of being back zhere, of vhat zhey vould do to me...or force me to do to ozhers."

"So we flee," Heavy said, adjusting his arm one more time, finally satisfied that the odd covering was in place and rolling his sleeve back down. "I want to protect Doktor, still owe him life. We are helped in coming to America. Make lives, try to make money and get by. Then we receive packets about joining company. We are promised anonymity and safety."

"As much safety as one gets in a vorld vhere ve die on a daily basis," Medic said with a vaguely amused tone.

Heavy nodded a little. "Da. SHIELD is strong agency. They have job of fighting bad men. Can do this without us."

"Besides, I had been vith zhem for zhe length of my known life," Medic said, shrugging. "Completing hundreds of dangerous missions for zhem. It vas time for me to leave and spend some time focusing on my brain razher zhan on being a hired brute." He rolled his eyes with another bemused smirk. "And I end up here vorking as a mercenary, battling anyvay. But at least I have no fear of zhe robots or Gray Mann forcing me into servitude."

"Yeah…" Scout said, frowning. "I...guess I can see where this is a lot better. An' I can see why you don't want it gettin' out in the world, but Doc, the bunch'a us already keep a lot of secrets about each other. I mean no one but us and the people we work for know about our powers."

There was a faint scuffling nearby, and all three men immediately jumped, glancing toward it. A bit of disturbed dust in the desert sand was all they saw at first, but another moment saw an armadillo somewhat ungracefully toppling from it's perch on a nearby outcropping of rock, scrambling around a bit before getting back on it's feet and taking off in as near a run as the armored creature could. "Yes…" Medic said, frowning as he watched it go. "But...zhis is different."

Heavy reached out to put his hand...the right one, on Scout's shoulder, a bit more comforting of a gesture than it seemed the giant should really be capable of. "Doktor worries about being discovered by anyone. Worries his past makes him seem like bad man, cannot be trusted."

"And you did not have zhe calmest reaction to discovering Heavy is former HYDRA," Medic said, crossing his arms. "And not knowing vhere Johann Schmidt or any of his minions exist, I do not wish any risk of knowledge of my presence to escape. I simply cannot risk Soldier or Demo letting any detail slip during zheir drunken escapades, if zhere is a chance zhat zhere could be a HYDRA mole perhaps passing by."

"It is...the serious business that we tell you," Heavy said a little haltingly, expression going very stern as he looked Scout right in the eyes. "We trust you with secret that we have trusted no other with."

Scout glanced back at Heavy, then to Medic, looking vaguely skeptical. "I don't think there's much of a chance of friggin' HYDRA havin' people wanderin' Teufort, Doc. It ain't like there's much'a anythin' here that a bunch'a Na-sorry." Scout shook his head a bit as the near-slip still earned a vague scowl from Medic. "That a bunch'a whatever they are would want."

"Vhich is vhy I am at least somevhat comfortable here," Medic said, adjusting his glasses. "But you do not understand how very much...I vould do anyzhing to avoid even zhe risk of being discovered." He reached out, both hands grasping Scout's, as though to ensure the younger man would not budge from his eye contact. "You have to promise zhat you vill keep zhis secret. For all of our sakes."

Scout made a bit of a face, pulling his hands away from Medic's, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck, sighing and looking to the side. "Yeah...yeah, all right, fine," he said, shrugging. "It's a big deal or somethin' to you so whatever, I can keep that a secret. I really think you're overreactin' and all that but it's. Fine."

Medic didn't even hesitate, reaching out to grab hold of Scout's chin and forcing eye contact. "Look at me and _promise_ me, Scout."

Scout shoved his hand away, scowling, but kept eye contact. "I promise you I am going to keep your secret, all right? Even if I did slip and say somethin' it's not like the other guys would believe me anyway, so just, y'know, stop bein' all fretty about it." He pointed a finger to Medic's face. "But I wanna hear some Captain America stories."

Medic just looked at him in silence, then rolled his eyes a bit. "I don't have very much exciting to tell you, but all right." He looked to Heavy, then the three resumed their walk towards town. "Let me tell you about zhe time Captain Rogers infilitrated a base hidden avay in Svitzerland. Zhat vas somezhing of a political nightmare…"

( )

By the time dusk was just starting to settle, the three of them were back at their home base, carrying bags and boxes of take-out from the only steak restaurant in the tiny town nearby. It was probably just in time anyway, as they could hear Soldier's loud complaining about the lack of proper sustenance before they even opened the door.

"At least some zhings are alvays constant," Medic said, ducking under Heavy's arm as the giant Russian shouldered open the door for him and Scout to enter. The sounds were coming from the dining room, set behind the front living area where the others had been before, and from the amount of noise, it seemed as though all six of their teammates were in there.

"Would you just settle down, Soldier?" a familiar female voice suddenly broke above the din, and Medic added a seventh member to the general mayhem-apparently Miss Pauling had arrived, as she often did after a successful battle.

"We are back, gentlemen!" Scout called out loudly, always able to raise his voice above the chaos of a room full of rambunctious men-likely a talent born from being raised in a house with seven older brothers. "Loaded to the brim with more steak than any'a you can shake a stick at!" He beelined right for the long table, setting down the bags he was carrying, taking a moment to shake his arms out after the long walk. "Yo, Miss Pauling."

"Scout," the small woman said noncommittally, a somewhat bemused expression on her face. She was dressed in a purple dress and dark pantyhose, glasses somewhat askew as they usually were, clutching a yellow clipboard, standing at the head of the table. Clearly she had been trying to speak to the group about whatever it was she'd come to talk to them about, but the rowdy, hungry mercenaries weren't inclined to pay attention.

Fortunately, Heavy knew how to handle that. "Miss Pauling," he said in a booming voice, immediately drawing the attention of the others as he dropped the pile of bags he was carrying without a lot of care as to where they landed. "You will join us for dinner?"

Miss Pauling turned her gaze to the bags, which Soldier and Sniper were already digging into like rabid dogs, grabbing for styrofoam boxes and plastic forks. "I think I'd like to keep my hands and fingers unbitten, Heavy, thank you."

Before Heavy could reply, Pyro, apparently only just now realizing the others were home, abruptly charged Scout with a happy squealing sound, tackling the young man to the floor and starting to tickle, giggling gleefully.

"AGH! Pyro, no, down!" Scout laughed and started kicking, starting to wriggle and squirm, before managing to get an arm around the firebug's neck, eliciting a startled shout from his sudden wrestling partner as the two went rolling across the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"Hunna HNN!" Pyro seemed to be protesting, both of them thudding into a wall hard enough to rattle a shelf nearby.

"Oh, you don't like it when I start winning, do you?" Scout taunted, scrabbling around to try and get on top of Pyro, but yelping when he got himself flipped backwards over the other's head, Pyro rolling backwards to land with knees pinning Scout's arms down, another delighted chuckle emerging from beneath the mask.

"Children!" Engie scolded from where he was sitting, turning to look at them. "Do you two have to do this every evening?"

Pyro and Scout tilted their heads enough to look at the other. "Bnn hrnna hrnn," Pyro said in what sounded like a whine.

"Yes, I know you're having fun, but it's dinnertime." Engineer might have rolled his eyes, hard to tell with the goggles on, but just turned back towards the table to get himself a box from one of the bags Demoman was currently silently sorting out while looking amused at the antics. "That ain't appropriate in the dinin' room anyway. If you wanna do that, take it outside."

"Okay!" came clearly from both Scout and Pyro, both immediately bouncing up and to their feet as Demo snickered at them, but Engineer swirled around to stare them down again, and there was a matching pair of grumbles as the two started towards the table.

"Rematch tomorrow," Scout said, pointing to Pyro. "I'm gonna be winnin'."

"Nnn-hrn!" Pyro shot back with some quick hand waves, clearly rejecting that statement.

"Yes. Well." Miss Pauling just shook her head, but seeing as most of the team was settling down, either eating ravenously or just preparing themselves meals, she decided this seemed like the time to resume speaking. "Anything peculiar to report today, gentlemen?"

Scout glanced up at her, then over to Medic, who was sitting himself down across the table, between Heavy and Spy, and the doctor didn't miss a beat. "A surprise attack from anozher giant robot at the end," he said. "Scout had chased a bot that fled after the battle und he and I managed to defeat the giant ourselves, but it vas a near zhing."

"Uh, yeah. What he said." Scout sat down a bit awkwardly across from Spy, grimacing a bit as the Frenchman was raising an eyebrow at him. "Stupid giant robot'a me. Was not fun."

"Really? You were much more excited about it when you got home zis afternoon," Spy said, already working on delicately cutting up the steak he'd selected into tiny bite-sized pieces.

"Well, that was this afternoon," Scout said, glaring at him.

"And yet usually you would not be able to keep yourself contained in enthralling Miss Pauling with tales of your battlefield aptitude," Spy responded, turning a somewhat smirking expression on the younger man. "I just find it interesting zat you seem so subdued over ze issue now."

"Leave it be, spook," Sniper said from his seat next to Spy. He was the only one of the mercs who had fetched himself a plate and different silverware to use, setting down a plate and using a fork and knife to cut up his steak and the potato that had come with it. Once done with that, he picked up a white glass spoon to use on the soft potato, and just picked up pieces of steak with his fingers, eating as politely as possible while doing so. He'd explained once how his power made silverware and most dishes somewhat of an issue, and Pyro and Engineer had risen to the occasion by smelting a set of glassware for him that wouldn't snap to bits on use. While appreciative, Sniper was still in the habit of just eating with his hands most of the time, and frankly, no one else cared enough to say anything about it.

"It iz simply unusual, iz all," Spy responded, looking at Medic beside him, but the doctor was looking at Miss Pauling, still intent on whatever she was there to meet them about.

"Yes, well. It is unusual, I will grant that," she said, writing down notes on her board and frowning. "I'll talk to the Administrator about it."

"When's our next mission then, lass?" Demo asked, spearing a forkful of steak and chewing a bit noisily on it.

"Well, that's another unusual thing. I don't know."

"Vhat do you mean?" Medic asked, raising an eyebrow. "Zhe Administrator alvays has our next mission prepared before ve even finish zhe last."

"Well, not always," Miss Pauling shrugged. "There have been a couple of rare moments that she couldn't get the intel on Gray Mann that she usually can. But she's always gotten me information pretty quickly after the fact. I'll just have to go find her and find out what's going on." She shuffled through a couple of papers on the clipboard, frowning a little. "In the meantime, it looks as though the Mannhattan base is most due for an attack, so maybe prepare yourselves for that. Keep some equipment packed up and ready to move at a moment's notice." She looked over her clipboard, eyes narrowing slightly. "That means you, Soldier."

"I am always prepared to move, Miss Pauling!" he protested through a mouthful of potato.

"While I admit seeing you take down robots with nothing but cans of soup and a frying pan was impressive, I'd rather you not be in that situation again." She looked to Heavy. "Please pack a bag for him."

"This I can do," Heavy replied amiably, barely even looking up from his meal.

"I do not need weapons to tear robot monsters limb from limb! I am too American to require weapons! They simply make my job cleaner!"

"Hide the bag after it's packed, Heavy," Miss Pauling said, rubbing her temple. She glanced at Scout, who seemed to be more focused on eating his food, casting occasional glances across the table at the Medic. "Well. Since everything seems fairly standard, I suppose I'd better go start looking for her. Sooner we get our marching orders, the sooner we can get moving."

"That sounds great, lass," Demo said, reaching out to pick up one of the so-far unopened styrofoam boxes to offer it to her with a cheeky grin. "But if'n you won't stay to eat, ye might as well take some dinner along, eh? I dun wanna think about you fainting from the hunger on your way, yeah?"

"...I suppose I can do that." She offered him a small smile as she took the box and one of the wrapped packs of plastic cutlery. "I'll be back as soon as I get your marching orders, all right? In the meantime, just try to rest up and get your gear in order. I'll run some data on the anomaly in today's fight and report back on it." She tucked her pen behind her ear, put her clipboard under her arm, and put the styrofoam box into one of the leftover plastic bags so she could carry it more easily.

"All right, ye have a safe trip now, lassie," Demo waved.

"Always do." Miss Pauling started out of the room to leave the men to their meal, but she stopped behind Scout's seat, looking at him in some puzzlement as he still looked more fixated on his plate than anything else. "Scout, are you...feeling all right?"

"Huh?" Scout blinked, looking up, then turned in his chair to look back at her. "Uh...yeah, yeah, sure, I'm...yeah?"

"You're just very...quiet. You haven't tried to ask me out or anything."

"Uh. Do you. D'ya want me to ask you out? 'Cuz I could totally still ask you out. I mean it ain't like you left already or nothin' so like, yeah, you know, I could ask-,"

Miss Pauling just stared at him for a moment before slightly rolling her eyes at the babbling. "You know what, actually, I don't know what I'm complaining about. Good night, gentlemen."

The nine mercenaries behind her all piped up with their own farewells, and she just walked out, sighing a little as she walked out, heading for her light purple scooter. There weren't any of the usual bodies strapped onto the back, thankfully that part of her job had lessened since the mercs had been focused on battling Gray Mann's robots. The briefcase they'd so often had to go to war over was kept stashed safely away in the basement of their fort, and the war games that they'd often performed to keep in top shape for guarding it were a thing of the past.

She took a moment to pack away her things in the trunk strapped to the back of her scooter, smiling slightly as she tucked the box with the steak and potato in it on the top. That done, she picked up her helmet, brushing out the inside before moving to strap it in place.

Then she paused, frowning, turning to look around. She could hear the mercenaries inside, already talking loudly, carrying on as they always did when left to their own devices, but she would have sworn someone was still keeping an eye on her.

A quick scan of the environs didn't show her anything. The fort was tucked back into a canyon and hidden well enough that intruders were unheard of, and the lead-poisoned idiots in the nearby town were probably too stupid to wander out this far. She made a note on that to check and make sure the team had a full supply of drinking water next time she was out here.

Still. She was uneasy. She picked up her shotgun with one hand and a flashlight with another, snapping the light on and shining it around, examining the horizons around her. Nothing really jumped out at her as out of place. Things seemed pretty well as they always did, though admittedly in the darkness, it wasn't as clear as it could have been.

"You're just being paranoid, Pauling," she finally muttered, shaking her head and turning around to pack her things back up and get on the bike. "Two things go wonky and you start looking for boogeymen."

Revving the engine a couple times, Miss Pauling sped away from the base, off to deal with getting everything together for her team. Behind her, the base vanished as she rounded out of the canyon and onto the highway to be on her way.

No one noticed the sight of a single figure in black, standing atop the nearby rock outcroppings outside the base. He simply stared after the retreating figure in purple before looking back to the base with the nine men inside. A set of silvery fingers twitched slightly at the man's left side. After just a moment though, at a particularly loud burst of noise, he turned to walk away, quickly vanishing over the horizons and out of sight of the base, with no one inside any the wiser.


End file.
